Laid To Rest
by Rhionae
Summary: A reflective piece from Mirai Bulma's perspective, as Trunks prepares to return to the past.


Laid To Rest

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I smile as I gaze out the window, enjoying the sight of the Western Capitol lit by the early morning sunlight. The city is a jumble of construction zones now; people have slowly been starting to rebuild what was destroyed, to regain what was lost to them thanks to the whims of a couple of childish cyborgs who could never grow up. 

No. This destruction was caused by their creator, their programmer. They were almost as much victims as we, although it's taken me three years to see that. Before then, I could only see the devastation they wrought upon our world. 

Trunks put an end to that. Using the time machine I built, he traveled to the past and helped to create a more peaceful world. He became strong enough to defeat the twin banes of our lives. 

He told me of cyborgs who did not kill. Juunanagou and Juuhachigou made to see reason, and that other strange cyborg, Juurokugou, who loved nature so much... 

Could they really have been so different? Could they truly become something other than the heartless monsters I came to know so well? These questions have come to haunt me over the years, despite Trunks' assurances that Vegeta, Piccolo and even little Gohan were all quite capable of stopping them should they suddenly have a change of heart. I have woken from nightmares in which Juunanagou and Juuhachigou were tearing apart an unsuspecting world... 

At least it is a nightmare I no longer have to live in. Perhaps when Trunks returns from this visit to the past I will be able to lay my demons to rest. Kami-sama knows I've laid enough friends to theirs. Even Kami-sama. All because of a madman with a grudge against one of the sweetest men to ever live. 

Goku may have been innocent almost to the point of idiocy, but he had a strength and goodness of heart which drew so many to him. Like me. I have to laugh as I remember our first meeting, when he thought my car was a wild beast... and he didn't even know the differences between boys and girls! I still don't know how Chichi ever manage to conceive Gohan - it's quite a testament to her perseverance with him. But then, Chichi has always been strong. Even now, without Goku, without Gohan, she still continues on with life. 

I wonder if I could have had such strength if I'd lost Trunks as well as Vegeta... Not that Vegeta was much of a loss to me. I mourned Yamucha more deeply than I did the father of my child, at least at the time of their deaths. In fact I don't think I ever truly mourned Vegeta until Trunks told me of his time with him in the past. _Then_ I grieved - both for the loss of such a complex man, and for the fool I was not to see beyond his shell of arrogance and pride. 

I hope that that other Bulma will not make the same mistakes I did. I hope that she sees what I did not. I hope that she won't have to lie to her son about her relationship with his father. I hope... 

"Kaasan?" 

I turn away from the window to face my son, letting my face relax into a welcoming smile for him. He doesn't need to know about my troubles. He has had enough of his own, far more than he should have been burdened with at such a young age... 

He's not so young anymore. I'm forced to admit it as I look him up and down: my baby boy has become a man, full-grown, with such a look of confidence in his eyes... I draw him close for a hug, pressing his sleekly muscled body against mine as tightly as I can bear. He reminds me of his father now; perhaps emulating a stance here, a gesture there... He knows his father better than I ever did. 

I push him away, holding him at arms' length, and scrutinize him once more. "They're not going to recognize you, you know," I tell him laughingly. He smiles in response. 

"I haven't changed that much," he informs me; but he knows what I mean. "I won't stay away so long this time. It's only a visit." 

I release my breath in a soft sigh, only now realizing that I had been holding it in... 

The last time he journeyed to the past he changed so much; I wonder what will happen to him this time, when he is away from me. It hurts, knowing that there was a part of him that I couldn't watch developing, but I believe that it is his Saiyajin blood showing through. His father's blood. 

Vegeta. Why on earth did I ever have a child with an _alien _of all people? Yamucha was always there for me, even if he did seem more like a friend than a lover most of the time. Vegeta was only there for the sex. Wasn't he? That was all he ever was to me. I was too blind to look for more. 

Yet he gave me a wonderful son. I am grateful to him for that, and regret that he never had the chance to see him grow as I did. Perhaps our child would have brought us closer. I cannot tell. 

"Well, breakfast is ready, so eat up before you go." I push Trunks in the direction of the table, amused as ever to see him eat. I'm not much of a cook, but today is special, so I tried my best. It's worth it to see his smile of thanks. He always seems so gentle when he smiles; my beautiful baby boy... 

I wonder if Vegeta could ever have smiled like that... Was he ever the innocent child that Trunks once was? Somehow I doubt it. Did he ever even know a mother? 

"Kaasan?" 

I look up, startled, to see Trunks gazing at me with concern. I stare back for a moment before forcing a smile to my lips. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little distracted this morning," I apologize lightheartedly, hoping to quash his worries. His eyes are still doubtful, however. 

"I don't have to go - " 

"Don't be silly!" I scold. "You promised them you'd tell them how it went, right? I'm sure they'd want to know - I know I would, in their position!" 

He frowns slightly, before nodding and resuming his meal. I pour myself some fresh coffee, and sip at it while he finishes eating. He starts to clear away the plates, until I slap at his wrists to make him stop. 

"Leave that, I'll take care of it this time," I tell him as I usher him outside. He knows better than to argue. 

The street is practically deserted at this hour, with most of the activity taking place at construction sites and markets on the other side of the city. I pull the capsule containing the time machine out of my capsule case, where I had placed it before breakfast, and activate it. I repress the urge to check the machine over for the hundredth time since yesterday, and instead turn to say goodbye to my son. 

"Tell everyone I said 'Hi'!" 

"I will!" He smiles at me once more, then raises himself into the air above the time machine, and starts to settle into the seat. 

Soon he will be in a world where all my friends are still alive. Our friends. I envy him a little, but it is better this way - better that I treasure my memories than be forced to endure their company, their pity, knowing that I would soon return to this world empty of all save my son. 

He is far stronger than I, in so many ways. 

I lift one hand to wave goodbye, a farewell smile on my lips. He starts to raise his own hand, but the expression on his face changes abruptly from one of happiness to that of shocked pain. What - ? 

Behind Trunks is a shadowy monster, its inhuman face revealing no emotions - yet I can sense its unholy glee in stark contrast to Trunks' pain. His _pain_. 

My eyes slide downwards in growing horror, resting at last on the bloody fingers protruding from my son's chest. My voice is caught in my throat. I can't even scream. I can only watch helplessly as the anguished light dies away from his bright blue eyes, leaving behind glazed, empty orbs - and an ache in my soul the like of which I have never felt before. 

The creature tosses Trunks casually aside, taking his place at the controls of the time machine. It looks at me once, and I know that it's laughing at me. I rush towards the time machine, screaming my hurt and rage. 

It's gone. 

I fall through empty air, landing harshly on my hands and knees. I swallow my sobs to crawl over to where Trunks lies so quietly. Too quietly. 

He's dead. My son, my reason for living, is dead, an empty hole where his heart should be. 

I hold him to me, trying to recall the feeling of his heartbeat as I held him such a short time ago... 

Instead all I can think of is the blood that runs between us, its warmth slowly fading away - and the look on that monster's face as it traveled to the past. What would it do there? Kill again? Destroy that peaceful world we worked to create? 

I know I should warn them somehow, of the danger they could be facing - but it took all I had to build that one time machine, and even now after three years of peace I would be hard-pressed to do it again. 

Why should I? Why should I even bother? If our attempts to make better worlds only lead to worse ones then why should I play god in this godless world? 

Maybe Chichi is right. I should have just done my best for this doomed world without dragging other worlds and timelines along with ours... 

I rock my son's body lightly in my arms. 

It doesn't really matter anymore, anyway. 

November 98

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[[Storytime][1]] [[Fanfics][2]] [[DBfics][3]] [[rhionae@hotmail.com][4]]   


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   [1]: http://www.crosswinds.net/~rhionae/storytime/
   [2]: ../fanfics.htm
   [3]: ../dbfics.htm
   [4]: mailto:rhionae@hotmail.com



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